I never seem to be happy working

I am hardworking. Reasonably clever. Bosses never appreciate this. I don't know why. The best explanation I have is that the vast majority aren't. And so they take advantage of those who are. Like me. Might as well give the work to someone reliable who can do it, and do it well. Credit is theirs, blame is mine. 

This seems to be a repeating trend in my entire working life. Bonus and increments aside, it would really be nice to be appreciated. By anyone. I do my work well. I am tired. For once I would like to work somewhere where hard work and diligence is truly appreciated, where I am not 'rewarded' by more work, but a pat on the back and clearance to go home.

A good friend of mine told me today that in an equal world, that would be the case. But we live in a cruel and unjust world where the strong are rewarded with more work, and the weak are rewarded with gratitude and appreciation. 

And people wonder why my ambition is to become a hermit. 

Books read in 2021

 My annual habit - the books I read in 2021:

1.           The Guest List – Lucy Foley

2.           The Kind Worth Killing – Peter Swanson

3.           The Gilded Cage – Camilla Lackberg

4.           Selfish Gene – Richard Dawkins

5.           Hag’s Nook – John Dickson Carr

6.           Bodies from the Library – Tony Medawar (selected and introduced)

7.           Our Constitution – Shad Saleem Faruqi

8.           My Story : Justice in the Wilderness – Tommy Thomas

9.           Before the Fact – Francis Iles

10.        The Red House Mystery – A. A. Milne

11.        Demien – Hermann Hesse

12.        The Inner Eye – Nicholas Humphrey

13.        God Knows – Joseph Heller

14.        The God Delusion – Richard Dawkins

15.        World War II in Minutes – R.G. Grant

16.        Speeches That Made History – Bounty Books (publisher)

17.        Just Six Numbers – Martin Rees

18.        The Beast Must Die – Nicholas Blake

19.        Malice Aforethought – Francis Iles

20.        The Last Séance – Agatha Christie (collection of supernatural stories)

21.        The Silent House – Nell Pattison

22.        When You See Me – Lisa Gardner

23.        The Case of the Constant Suicides – John Dickson Carr

24.        The Hollow Man – John Dickson Carr

25.        The Hands of Mr. Ottermole – Thomas Burke

26.        The Problem of Cell 13 – Jacques Futrelle

27.        The Man in the Passage – G. K. Chesterton

28.        Beloved – Toni Morrison

29.        Uncle Abner: Master of Mysteries – Melville Davisson Post

30.        Kill the Major – Paul Malone

31.        Troubled Blood – Robert Galbraith

I will always love mysteries, adventure, thrills! You know, the things I never get in real life 🙄

Happy New Year 2022.

The reluctant atheist

I read a book in the last year which has changed my life, probably forever. The book is "The Selfish Gene" by Richard Dawkins. This book gives scientific reasons why we are just because; everything that happens is random; there is no reason behind everything that happens; we are all the product of evolution.

This book was published in 1976; I only found out about it from a fellow traveler when I went to Africa last year; so the irony is not lost on me: was there a reason that I was made aware of this particular book that would make such a significant impact in my life and if that was the case, maybe everything does happen for a reason?

I am now in the zone of believing – not believing in God. I checked out some atheist websites and they have an alternative 10 commandments which really appeals to me:

 The New 10 Commandments

1.           Do not do to others what you would not want them to do to you.

2.           In all things, strive to cause no harm.

3.           Treat your fellow human beings, your fellow living things, and the world in general          with love, honesty, faithfulness and respect.

4.           Do not overlook evil or shrink from administering justice, but always be ready to              forgive wrongdoing freely admitted and honestly regretted.

5.           Live life with a sense of joy and wonder.

6.           Always seek to be learning something new.

7.           Test all things; always check your ideas against the facts, and be ready to discard           even a cherished belief if it does not conform to them.

8.           Never seek to censor or cut yourself off from dissent; always respect the right of             others to disagree with you.

9.           Form independent opinions on the basis of your own reason and experience; do not      allow yourself to be led blindly by others.

10.        Question everything.

 

For the most part, I have "inadvertently" followed these atheist commandments while being a theist. I like to think that I am a Hindu, after all. 

Am I now an atheist? Am I prepared to declare this to the world?

(Un)fortunately I am not. 

So my prayers lately have been:

"God, if indeed You are out there, I need You more than ever now. If You were never there, it all makes sense to me in a weird way. So it’s all cool. God or no God, I am cool. 

But just the same, it would be nice to know if You are real. I am in between theist - atheist. That's the worst kind of place to be. Help."

No answer as of yet. Does this in itself mean anything?? I would like to say "Oh, My God" but I do not know if that is even apt anymore. 🙈🙉🙊

The dilemma that is life

I will die on my 50^th birthday. 

This was a promise I made to myself some time ago, and a promise that I intend to keep. 

Why 50? I figured by then my parents will already be gone; being the 2 people in the world who somewhat loved me while I was alive (having created me and all) and who will no longer be around to mourn my death.

It is wishful thinking isn’t it? What if they’re still around when I’m 50? Do I still go through with it? If not, what is the difference if I did it when I’m 50 or now?

It’s all a matter of perspective isn’t it? How important do I really think I am to them? Are they just an excuse because somewhere deep down, I am not ready to die? Something pulling me to live, because there are still some things I need to accomplish? Some things that I still need to do? Some things that I still enjoy?

The reality is that I can die any time. From a road accident. From the effects of the vaccine that I took. From a heart attack. From a stroke. The truth is, I may die tomorrow. Am I prepared for that?

Yes, I am! 

So why am I waiting? I really don’t have the answer. As much as I am prepared to die, I am happy to be alive every day. I am happy to see the sun in the morning, to spend time with my girls, to feel the wind, to see my plants grow, to see the different types of birds that visit my garden, to see the moon at night.

I am so conflicted. I am ready to die, and yet I am happy to be alive. I do not have an explanation for this and I cannot rationalize this. 

I hate it when I don’t have answers.

I am upset!

 I am so upset I am not thinking clearly.

The Fatty Pup keeps destroying my flower plants. My beautiful flower plants who give me so much joy when the first rays of the sun allow me to gaze at their beauty. I talk to them as I water them in the evenings, and they bloom for me in the mornings.

Nothing seems to work except to keep the Fatty Pup tied up at night. By the time I decided to tie her up, she had already systematically destroyed 10 flower plants. This is her special night-time activity. She has been tied up at night for about a week now, and my remaining flower plants have been safe.

Since I intended to keep her tied up until she forgets the plants (if that is ever possible), I bought 4 new flower plants over the weekend to replenish my dwindling stock. They were not flowering when I bought them. On the third day (yesterday), they bloomed for me.

Last night was no different. I lured the Fatty Pup with treats (food is her greatest weakness) and then tied her up. I got up at 6 this morning as usual to release her. To my horror I found her on the loose. I felt my reflux and heart palpitations coming on. Then I saw the massacre. My 4 new flower plants, just beginning to bloom, tattered and torn all over the garden. Earth from the flower pots strewn all over the garden.

I cleaned up the mess in the garden in the dark; all the time not fully realising the horror before my eyes. Maybe I didn’t want to fully see it; hence my activities in the wee hours of the morning before the sun arose. I hardly slept last night as I am becoming increasingly busy with work, with the result that I woke up this morning with a slight headache. Upon seeing the slaughter, my slight headache quickly became a hammer knocking my skull so I had to take panadols early in the morning, before breakfast, and before jogging. I wasn’t in the mood for anything but what the hell. Life goes on. I really didn’t know how I got through the day.

When my housemate came home I asked her whether she released the Fatty Pup and she admitted this, with the excuse that the Fatty Pup was making so much noise in the middle of the night. The Fatty Pup is tied outside and in front of the house, nearest to my room. I am a sound sleeper but not that sound. For example, I can hear the alarm clock, and my handphone ringing, no matter how deeply asleep I am. If the noise was bad, I would have heard it first. Plus, I didn’t sleep very well last night because I had a million (work related) things in my head. In short, I don’t believe my housemate. She has a soft spot for the devil Fatty Pup.

In my anger I told her that I will then tie Fatty Pup in the backyard, again at a place closest to my room. When I had a chance to cool down a little bit I realised this was a useless plan. Fatty Pup and her big sister grew up in front; she is not used to the backyard, her big sister (who unsurprisingly dislikes her) will never stay with her, and in her loneliness the Fatty Pup will keep not only my housemate, but the whole neighborhood awake. Hence, I abandoned this idea.

No one cares about my problem. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Most people only care about themselves. Why would they care about plants and dogs?

So what to do now?

A few options:

1.           Drink beer. It doesn’t solve anything but it’s always a good idea.

2.         Give the Fatty Pup away. Perhaps a long-term solution, but I need a solution tonight.    My feelings about the Fatty Pup changes from day to day. Today I really don’t like her and wouldn’t mind giving her away. Tomorrow? Today I regret adopting her. I had 2 best dogs and when they died I should never have adopted again. But tomorrow?

3.           Tie the Fatty Pup at her usual place in front, housemate be damned!

4.           Tie the Fatty Pup at her unusual place in the backyard, housemate be damned!

5.           Tell my housemate with the Dumbo ears to get ear-plugs.

I am carrying out Option No. 1 as I write this. Work tomorrow be damned. I have also carried out Option No. 6: I apologised to my remaining flower plants for failing to protect them from the evil jaws and paws of the Fatty Pup, and I said goodbye to them with many tears.

My life, my choice(s)

I like to think that I am a “high functioning sociopath”, as declared by the Sherlock Holmes played by the lovely Benedict Cumberbatch. Sadly, I am not. Very unfortunately, I have empathy. Mostly towards animals and plants. Sometimes (very reluctantly) towards human beings. But that simply means that I do not fit the definition of a “sociopath”, however much I pretend or imagine to be one.

Well, then I am the next best thing. A misanthrope. Having lived for as long as I have, I still cannot understand the human psyche. I abhor it. Everyone seems to tell lies, under the guise of it being “tactful”, although it is wrong. Honesty is regarded as being rude, and hence never rewarded. I don’t understand it. But even if I can rationalise it, the biggest question for me is, will I change my behaviour in order to “fit in” to society?

I did it for 10 years when I was in practice. I became someone I am inherently not. Hence, I left. Sometimes, when the hours are dark and I have nothing better to think, my mind wanders to the past and always wonders, what if I never left practice? Externally, I would be an equity partner by now, rich enough to buy landed property, a posh car, etc. But the perennial question: at what cost? If it is at the cost of losing my own identity (and it was for me, personally) then I still think it was the right decision to leave.

But is it the case of “out of the frying pan, into the fire?” Human nature after all, is the same everywhere, and across generations. Genes may evolve for better or for worse, but human nature remains the same. We are all ruled by the same motivations, from time immemorial – ambition, greed, envy, love, selfishness, revenge, etc. It takes a really strong will, and an exceptional mind, to overcome any of these.

I am not one of these. I am (unfortunately) a normal human being, therefore I am susceptible. The difference is, I am aware of my limitations. The vast majority is not.

I finally deleted my Facebook account. It’s been a long time coming. To be honest, I don’t even know why I joined in the first place, being the misanthrope that I am. False hopes, I guess. Being human, I had false hopes that there are some good people out there. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I posted a plea for help from a local animal welfare association seeking charitable donations in this difficult Covid environment. I had a grand total of zero likes. In contrast, a “friend” on Facebook posting the home cooked food for the day received 30 likes.

I knew what I had to do. I have no regrets.

The solution

 This Covid-19 nonsense is really getting out of hand. For starters, it’s been here for a year now. I remember this time last year, I was in Africa. What a happy time. In the most beautiful continent in the world, without a care in the world.

I came back to this Covid nightmare. It’s been one sort of lockdown nightmare after another, with no end in sight. I became so disillusioned and depressed I took to gardening. Gardening! Of all things. I now want to give up the hobby but my plants, of course, cannot know this. I am convinced they have feelings. The ones I talk to grow better than the ones I ignore. I talked to them because I was isolated and bored. And now I have no heart to “give up” because I don’t want them to wither and die. We have a bond, my plants and I.

The economy crashed. I blame the government. Not just our government, but the governments the world over. I think we left too much science to get in the way of things. Science is good. I am a believer in science. But just like you can’t leave wars to generals, you can’t leave pandemics to scientists. But that is just what the world did. And ordinary (non-scientist) humans suffer for it.

I accepted the only job available. I will be honest. It was a job I coveted since I graduated. But then, I joined the “real world” and saw “real money”. And now, to go back to this job I once coveted, with a much lesser pay than what I was used to, seemed contrary to all my skill and experience that I had gained for the past 20 years. And yet, it was the only job opportunity available. Because of Covid. Because the economy was bad. Because I was qualified for this particular job. Because I had nothing better. Because a part of me still coveted it. Because the part of me that wanted more pay, couldn’t find anything better. Because it was meant to be (?).

The move was bigger than I thought. Hitherto I had only been in the private sector. Now I am in the public sector. Hitherto I had been in the industry. Now I am in protective custody. I never knew until today what a huge gap that was. Today I had my first formal meeting in my new job. It was a disaster for me. They may as well be speaking Greek. Or Damara. Or Sanskrit. I didn’t understand 90% of what was said, including something about me. This is not good. Certainly not ideal.

Because I was more confused and stressed after the meeting than ever before, I did the only appropriate thing after the meeting. I opened a can of beer. 5 cans later, I have no idea what I was so confused and stressed about.

"Sweet dreams (are made of this)"

About 20 years ago I had a friend. We were very close. When I look back on those days, I seem to only remember everything good, fun, warm, sunshine, rainbows and unicorns. Of course, I may have been way off course. I was young and therefore unfamiliar with the perils of life just yet. And also of course, it came to an abrupt end. I can’t for the life of me pin point any one incident that brought this camaraderie to a screeching halt, but halt it did. And then we went our own separate ways and travelled different roads all this time, so that we never met again. Out of sight and out of mind.

Recently, I had been having dreams about this friend. Totally unbidden, random, arbitrary. The dream was that I bumped into this former old friend of mine, and we just picked up where we left off, and I remember thinking how fragile our hearts are as we allow the tiniest trifle (tiny for me as I’d forgotten what it even was) to get in the way of what could’ve been decades of friendship.

The first 2 dreams I dismissed as unnecessary interference. After the third dream though, I convinced myself that there must be some sort of meaning to, or message in, this persistent reverie I keep returning to in my sleep. So I contacted a mutual friend and got this old former friend’s number.

After a tremendous amount of effort to suppress my ego and pride with the aid of copious amounts of alcohol, I finally messaged him. I said I remembered the good times we had together once and I was just wondering how he was doing now.

No reply. It’s been a week.

Now I feel like a fool.

But then, I don’t dream about him anymore so maybe it was necessary that I messaged him regardless of the consequences. And if in 20 years’ time I dream about him again, I will know what to do.

NOTHING.

There's something about God

 I think I had mentioned before that at the age of 16 I set out looking for God. I was prepared to face the truth, even it meant finding out that there is no God after all. Or worse, that there is a God but He was never on the side of humanity; never on my side.

In my quest I have poured over books covering various religions, philosophies, beliefs, theories from East to West including mysticism, Emile Durkheim’s ‘The Elementary Forms of Religious Life’ where he posits that all religion is man-made, the whole existentialist movement, meditation and mind consciousness, etc, etc. There are 2 things I want to say at this point. First, I am still unable to find the answers to all my questions. Second, I feel as if my journey is still incomplete in that there are still things out there for me to read, to understand, to learn, to apply.

I also think that there are largely 2 types of people out there. One type is those who find something that gives them meaning, and that becomes a means of justification for their actions and behaviour. Meaning, that everything they do is given meaning or justification by that thing they believe in. The second type is those who are what they are and are trying to make sense of what they are.

For the longest time I was in the first group of people. Of all that I have read, I found that I was most drawn to the teachings of the Buddha and tried to practice Buddhism. For the longest time I ignored, or perhaps I integrated (wrongly) the one glaring thing that was missing in Buddhism but that I believed in – God. I believe in God. Despite everything I see and hear, mostly to the contrary, I still believe in God. I cannot shake this belief no matter what. And over time I have come to realise that I cannot fit my set of beliefs into any given religion (I am using the word religion here to cover philosophies, theories, practices, beliefs, etc). Because if I choose a religion for myself, then I must accept all its teachings, even those that I do not agree to.

And that is not me. I have my own beliefs. Right or wrong I do not know but they are my own beliefs. And I guess I am trying to find the religion that will fit my beliefs, that will answer all my questions satisfactorily, that will make me content and happy with life, such as it is. I haven’t found it. Perhaps I never will in this lifetime. But that doesn’t mean I stop trying. As long as there are interesting things for me to know, to learn, to read out there, I will do so and even if I don’t find all the answers, at least I would have gained all this knowledge, which may be strong enough to be passed on to whoever I am born as next.

And I do believe that. I believe that our souls or consciousness or whatever it is that makes us awake or aware, is made up of energies which is a part of the universe, and when we die, these energies live on and may give life to another being. And I believe, just like how I am drawn to be a seeker of religion in this lifetime, perhaps some of the energy within me right now was also a seeker in my past life which is spurring me on to continue this quest for answers. And so, even if I do not find all the answers in this lifetime, maybe that part of the energy may pass on to a new being who will continue the search, until one day, all will be answered; all will be known. And how does God fit into all of this energy being re-born or recycled or reincarnated? Well, I believe that reincarnation and God are not mutually exclusive concepts.

When I put it down in words, it sounds like some supernatural-science fiction, but this is what I believe. How else can I explain this need to find religion? Where did it come from? My parents and most of my friends are followers of what was already taught to them. They never question anything. And to be honest, I envy them. There is a lot of comfort in attending church every Sunday or going to the mosque or temple every Friday or meditating every day or confessing one’s sins every week. I envy those who genuinely find peace and solace in these things. I wish I was more like them.

But I am not. Me, I question everything. I also absorb everything. And then I decide what works for me and what doesn’t. Because I also believe that being born as a human, I am blessed (or cursed) with a brain and I should use it, for better or for worse. Which means, finding out as much as I can and choosing what works for me. And if it turns out that I’ve thought everything wrong, that I’ve done everything wrong, that I’ve chosen everything wrong, then either I will have to answer to God, or my energy is dispersed into a lesser being.

In the end, whether I am searching for myself or searching for God, I think in this instance it is really the journey that counts, not the destination.

Books read in 2020

 It was a roller coaster year. As a result, I didn't read as much as I should have 😒

1.                   The War in South Africa - Arthur Conan Doyle

2.                   Psychology, A Complete Introduction - Sandi Mann

3.                   A Banquet of Consequences - Elizabeth George

4.                   The Suspect - Fiona Barton

5.                   The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins (re-read)

6.                   The Wonderful Wizard of Oz - L. Frank Baum

7.                   The Astronomy Book - DK Penguin Random House (publishers)

8.                   Morality for Beautiful Girls - Alexander McCall Smith

9.                   The Best of African Folklore - collected by Phyllis Savory

10.               The Perfume of the Lady in Black - Gaston Leroux

11.               Catch 22 - Joseph Heller

12.               The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood

13.               On Liberty - John Stuart Mill

14.               The Next to Die - Sophie Hannah

15.               The Full Cupboard of Life - Alexander McCall Smith

16.               Secrets She Left Behind - Diane Chamberlain

17.               The Moonstone - Wilkie Collins (re-read)

18.               The Hunchback of Notre-Dame - Victor Hugo

19.               Either/Or - Soren Kierkegaard

20.               The Bible, the Quran and Science - Dr. Maurice Bucaille

21.               The Sentence is Death - Anthony Horowitz

22.               What Buddhists Believe - K. Sri Dhammananda

23.               At Home - Bill Bryson

24.               The Ice Child - Camilla Lackberg

25.               Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte (re-read after 22 years!)

26.               The Private Patient - P.D. James